


time goes quicker between the two of us

by SugarFey



Series: The Sky Is Here For Both Of Us [1]
Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 16:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15912378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarFey/pseuds/SugarFey
Summary: “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”“Didn’t stop you before.”Sometimes all you have are the might-have-beens.





	time goes quicker between the two of us

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, dipping my toes into The Expanse fandom. I adore Drummer and Naomi's relationship and all their complex feelings.

Drummer killed a man when she was fourteen, newly orphaned, and still calling herself ‘Camina.’ He was a dock worker who smelled of stale beer and sweat when he put his hands over her mouth in a darkened corridor. She reacted instinctively, because orphaned and starving didn’t mean helpless, because even when her mother was alive she learned that weakness meant death, because _you don’t get to touch me, asshole._ So she stepped on his foot, heard the crack and crunch of bone under her mag boots, and stabbed him in the throat with a screwdriver.

She hadn’t meant to kill him, not really. He slid to the floor with a wet thud, the screwdriver sticking out at an absurd angle. Ice gripped her lungs, froze her skin even as her stomach churned and twisted as though she had suddenly hit zero-g. It was the last time she would be shocked by death.

At thirty-four she is still slight, but her bones are protected by muscle, her nerves by steel. Her kills are calculated, clean and quick. If approached in drunken moments she will brag that her list of kills is too long to count.

It isn’t true, of course. She wouldn’t be where she is now without an eye for detail.

Only, ‘where she is now’ is a med bay. ‘Where she is now’ is hanging outside the entrance to countless worlds. ‘Where she is now’ is a weapon which used to be a church, while she has a broken nose and a fucking useless spine.

The doctor is far from pleased about her adventure with the mech supports, but saving humanity does grant her some leeway. 

“I can’t say how well this will work,” the doctor clucks as she hooks Drummer up to the machines. “The damage may be—“

“I know,” she grits out. “I fucking know.”

The doctor shrugs. “Well, you’re in here for the long shift. Better get comfortable.”

She lowers the lights as though she expects Drummer to actually _sleep,_ and it takes all Drummer’s will not to throw something at her.

With the lights out, the monitors give off a cool, greenish glow that throws the cables and gurneys into sharp relief. She tries to focus her eyes on the screen beside her, the screen that bluntly spells out her fate, but her eyes start to hurt almost instantly. She stares up at the ceiling instead. The mass of exposed cables swim in and out of her vision like the sea creatures she read about as a child, and her legs are…

Her legs are so…

Her legs…

A clank. Mag boots? A soft intake of breath, a stab of light.

Her eyes feel as though they are glued shut, and she struggles to open them, cringing at the sudden change in light. She forces her her head to turn towards the door. If this is Ashford, the bastard won’t catch her napping.

The figure in the doorway is outlined in shadow, and Naomi Nagata steps into the room.

“I wasn’t sure if I should let you sleep,” she says.

Drummer’s throat feels like sandpaper. She heaves her body up on her elbow and grits her teeth against the pain tearing down her side. 

“I was resting.” If Drummer’s throat is sandpaper, then the heavy drugs in her system make her voice slur into engine oil.

Naomi comes closer to the gurney, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Sure you were.”

Trust Naomi not to let her get away with that. 

“Thought you’d be gone by now,” Drummer mutters.

Naomi’s fingers brush the edge of the mattress. “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

Drummer can’t help it, she snorts, mirthlessly. “Didn’t stop you before.”

This would be Naomi’s cue to fire back, to call Drummer out on her shit like she always has before. Instead, her eyes drop, and her hand pulls back. “I guess I deserved that.”

“What’s in the past is over,” Drummer deflects. “You helped me build the supports, we’re even.”

She is not interested in Naomi’s guilt, so she aims for nonchalant, and it comes out sounding slightly drunk. Fucking painkillers. 

“Yeah, well.” Naomi heaves a deep breath, then says everything very fast. “You did a fucking stupid thing in that elevator shaft.”

Drummer does her best to hint at a shrug, to act as though she didn’t just try to sacrifice herself only a few hours ago, because this conversation is heading to places she doesn’t know how to navigate and she has never liked giving up control. 

“How was I supposed to know what you’d do?” Drummer says. “Not like I was much use anymore. Might as well do good while I go.”

“Bullshit,” Naomi snaps, in a shock of anger. “You didn’t think to let me in on the plan?”

Drummer smiles, rueful, and it hurts like hell. “I was afraid you wouldn’t let me go.”

Naomi’s mouth opens, an emotion flitting over her face that Drummer can’t quite catch. Her hand reaches out, slowly, and curls around Drummer’s fingers. “Camina, I…”

“Rather for you than for Ashford.” The ache in her throat is hard to swallow. “Thought I’d do a better job of it the second time around.”

Naomi’s grip tightens and her gaze flicks up to hold Drummer’s, eyes wide. When she speaks, her voice is hoarse. “Ashford said you saved him. How?” 

The words hit her like a bullet to the gut. She tries to pull away, but Naomi’s hand is firm. Naomi leans in, and it’s so much like that night on Tycho, many drinks and a lifetime away. But this is different, and Naomi _left,_ and this is a warship in a fucking battleground. 

“What happened, Camina?”

Her head rolls back against the thin pillow, trying to fight the drugs that seem to have loosened her tongue. “We were in the cargo bay when the ships decelerated. The farming truck trapped us both. Ashford said it had to float upwards. But I knew it wouldn’t. Rolling backward was… The ship needs a captain.”

“You’re the captain,” Naomi insists, but Drummer holds up her other hand to cut her off. Her mind swims as she shakes her head. 

“You saw how it was when the ships stopped. That Diogo shit would’ve caused hell if I lived and Ashford didn’t. And…” The truth sticks in her throat. _The Belt welcomes everyone._ “I can’t say I would’ve done what Ashford did.”

The words hang in the air, and Naomi pulls back a little. For a horrifying moment, Drummer thinks Naomi might be angry, or worse, feeling pity. But then Naomi sighs, and gives a smile so practiced it stings. “Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t have been stupid enough to try blowing up the Ring.”

Of course Naomi understood what she really meant, but right now, Drummer appreciates the lie. Naomi gently sits on the edge of the gurney, and Drummer can’t help it, she has to look away.

“Your crew must be ready for you to leave by now.”

“They’ll wait.” Naomi says it so gently.

“Don’t suppose you know when you’ll be coming back.”

Naomi shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she says, as though that could soften the blow Drummer already knew was coming.

“We seem to be saying that a lot to each other.” Drummer looks down to where their hands are still clasped, loosely. When was the last time someone held her hand like this? It sounds childish, a kid’s idea of comfort. Holding hands. And yet…

Drummer has spent most of her life being angry, because anger was safer than fear or grief or desperation. She has been fuelled by rage for months, ever since that Black Sky fucker shot her in the stomach on Tycho and then Fred decided to cosy up to the very man who encouraged the mutiny. Now, with a healing spine and Naomi Nagata holding her hand, she only feels very, very tired.

A sadness plays in Naomi’s eyes. “If things were different,” she starts, “we might—“

Her thumb slides over Drummer’s skin, soft and light, and it’s too much. Drummer yanks her hand back and rests it against the leg she barely feels. 

“Things are the way they are.”

For a moment, Naomi looks hurt, and some awful part of Drummer is glad to see it. The look is gone as quickly as it came, because Naomi has someone else who loves her, and Naomi can walk away.

Drummer wants to say that the _Rocinante_ will always be welcome on Tycho, that Naomi doesn’t have to leave, that she’ll put up with Holden because he makes Naomi smile.

But this isn’t Tycho, and this isn’t her choice. The words lie unsaid between them, and they both know. This is the end of something that never began.


End file.
